


I Think This Time I'm Dying

by cyberrsoot



Series: Saline Solution [1]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Mental Institution, Angry Wilbur Soot, Angst, Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Blood, Blood and Injury, Blood and Violence, Childhood Trauma, Family Dynamics, Gaslighting, Gen, Graphic Description, Heavy Angst, Hospitals, Hurt TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Mental Institutions, Minor Violence, POV Wilbur Soot, Panic Attacks, Protective Wilbur Soot, Psychological Trauma, Psychosis, Suicide Attempt, Therapy, Trauma, Vomiting, Wilbur Soot Angst, everyone has mental health problems, jschlatt is the antagonist pog, no beta we die like men, philza is a therapist, schlatt is a shitty dad but its how wilbur copes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-12
Updated: 2021-02-12
Packaged: 2021-03-14 05:13:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29290404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cyberrsoot/pseuds/cyberrsoot
Summary: Wilbur Soot believed he was the only sane person at Northgate Mental Institution, but that all changed when young Tommy showed up with a very special ability.Book one of the Saline Solution series.
Relationships: Jschlatt & TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Jschlatt/Wilbur Soot, Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit, Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit & Phil Watson
Series: Saline Solution [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2151087
Comments: 9
Kudos: 79





	I Think This Time I'm Dying

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [A Splitting Of The Mind](https://archiveofourown.org/works/535958) by [Shoved2agree (Gaiamdma)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gaiamdma/pseuds/Shoved2agree). 



> _"Chekhov's gun" (metaphor)_
> 
> _-A dramatic principle that states that every element in a story must be necessary, and irrelevant elements should be removed._

How many times in your life have you felt alone? Misunderstood? Perhaps even an outcast?

It might be a lot, it might be a little. It always depends on the type of person you are. If you have a naturally depressive personality, this will probably happen more often. If you’re always unnaturally happy, this will never occur. People like that annoy me often. Like, how dare you actually have your life together? Nobody except psychopaths manage to be happy all the time. I’ve learned this from many encounters with those types of people. All they talk about is blah blah the sun is shining blah blah the weather outside is beautiful blah blah blah. Their minds are too clouded by rainbows and roses, blocking their eyes from seeing the real world, a screwed up, terrible place.

I was mindlessly picking at the fabric of my wool sweater as my mind went on another tangent. The mind is a fascinating thing. Like, I can make you think of something even if you don’t want to. If I wanted to make you think of a turtle wearing a sombrero, I could. See? I just made you think of that specific image. But what’s even cooler is that nobody’s turtle would look the same as the next person’s. That’s because everyone is unique. We all think differently. The only way to get the exact image in your mind as the next person’s is for one person to tell the other what their turtle looks like, and even then, a person could depict the turtle differently then the other person was trying to explain. Cool, right? It’s insane how one singular person can control everyone else to an extent. They just have to know how to do it correctly. The trick is to get into that person’s head. You gotta get to know their weaknesses, and use that knowledge to your advantage. It may be a pretty screwed up thing to do, but like I said, this world is a screwed up place.

It’s fascinating how people can just disappear from all reality and go explore their own mind space. And, nobody ever has explored their mind space completely. People’s minds always take in new knowledge and their minds are always expanding. It’s like a music piece, completely filled with neverending blank pages, ready for notes to be added. And you’re looking at these pages and you think ‘I don’t want them to be blank anymore’, so you decide to add notes. And you keep on adding new notes, new instruments, and working so hard on this symphony which will never ever end; at least, until you die. But even then, if you’re lucky, your symphony lives on in the lives of those you impacted.

That’s how I see the human brain, at least. Whether they take in good or bad thoughts, they’re there once you put them there. But the brain is not a filing system, or a big tunnel with two exits labeled ‘keep’ or ‘destroy’. You can’t physically file your thoughts or memories, which means you can’t decide to forget the bad memories or remember the good ones. Remember that one memory that you wished you would forget? Well, you’re stuck with that forever or until something more traumatic happens which replaces that memory. Remember that super nice memory you forgot? Don’t tell me you do, I know you don’t remember it. You may have thought of a different nice memory, but then that would mean my statement is false, because you do remember it.

I looked up at the black and white clock that hung in the corner of the room, taking note of the time. 3:43 pm, only two more minutes until group was dismissed. Group was my least favorite part of the day. Mostly because Phil always forces me to listen to everyone. He’s okay with me not speaking during group, but god forbid I decide not to listen to another one of Karl’s stories about how the clouds are predicting the future. Phil tries to get me to talk during group, but I think he knows that I’m not budging. Why do I have to speak, anyway? I don’t belong in this group. I’m perfectly healthy, unlike Quackity who insists that he was kidnapped by aliens who tortured him into believing that the president was actually an alien too. On second thought, that could be a possibility with all the bad decisions he’s making.

I looked at the clock again, still 3:43. I think Phil rigged the clock so that it ticked two times slower than normal.

Perhaps he did that just to mess with me. It seems like something Phil would do. He probably also bought a clock that made an audible tick just to annoy me too. The ticking of the clock always managed to irritate me, no matter how good of a day I may be having. I scanned the room, trying my hardest not to pay attention to Karl simply to annoy Phil. It seemed to be working, as he kept glancing at me and giving me a stern look. I called this ‘the Phil look’, since only he could pull off such a dumb looking expression. Phil’s ‘look’ reminded me of a teacher who is staring at his class that’s talking a bunch and he just says ‘I’ll wait’, and he has that one facial expression on while he’s waiting for the class to calm down. I think that’s just what teachers do when they’re tired of reprimanding the children, so they just wait for them to fix themselves.

I looked back at the clock. 3:44, finally, a whole minute closer to freedom. Although, this one minute is probably going to span into five, then ten, then fifteen, and after. Phil doesn’t end the session until I at least write down how I’m feeling on a scale of one to ten and share it with the group. I always write ten, because the happier I seem the sooner they’ll release me from the loony bin. At least, that’s what Phil told me. But honestly, I know I can’t trust Phil so I’m not even sure if they’ll release me at all. Maybe this is all just a plot to torture me into speaking, or even worse, opening up about my secrets.

I’d never do that, though. I know I wouldn’t. I can’t.

Perhaps the other kids in this maniac house were just paid actors. If they are, then they better get very well paid, because Karl and Quackity are very insane. And Callahan, who apparently ‘sees ghosts’, and Fundy, the dude who insists that animals talk to him. Oh, also Sapnap, the kid who says he’s part dragon and can shoot ice out of his mouth, and George, who claims that he can see when people will die and how they will die (my death has been predicted to be in sixteen years by getting run over by a minivan full of kids and a soccer mum), and- Oh, oh! And my personal favorite, Ranboo, who says he has a friend named Tubbo who always watches over him when Tubbo isn’t real at all. Poor Ranboo is probably just lonely, so he made an imaginary friend to feel happy. But if everyone here is insane, why am I here? I don’t belong here at all. I’m a normal guy. I do normal things, and I may not speak, but that’s voluntary. I’m not insane.

“Wilbur!"

I jerked my head up, surprised at Phil’s icy tone. Phil never raised his voice, which was why I got so easily startled. Phil’s dark brown eyes were staring at me patiently, the rest of the group looking at me with a less hostile stare. I hated being the center of attention, but I wouldn’t let Phil see I was uncomfortable. I lifted my chin defiantly, giving him my tell-tale smirk that he hates (he would never admit he hated it, though, since “hate is a strong word”). Phil sighed heavily and turned his attention away from me. “As I was saying, today we have someone new joining us. So this session might go a little into your free time, but I’m sure you all will be fine with that.” Phil stared right at me while emphasizing the ‘I’m sure’.

My jaw dropped. How dare he deprive me of my free time to meet somebody new? I don’t wanna meet this new person, he’s probably just as insane as the rest of this crazy clique. I looked at the clock, which read 3:48. We’re already three minutes late to free time. Knowing Phil, this session would run for hours after when we were supposed to be dismissed. “Tommy, you can come in now!” Phil called to the half-opened door that led to the freedom of the hallway. Although I didn’t care what this so-called ‘Tommy’ looked like, I watched as the door slowly cracked open, and a small boy entered the room. I was surprised, he seemed to be young, at most he could only be 15. What was such a young kid doing in here? Why wasn’t he at some children’s hospital? This was no place for a child. Tommy’s eyes were glued to the floor, and his arms stayed close to his chest. His raggedy blonde hair hung over his eyes, blocking me from seeing his facial expression or any physical features of his face.

I was almost immediately interested as he slowly walked over to the circle to stand next to Phil. I was curious as to why he ended up here, mostly. He had to have something seriously wrong with him to end up at Northgate Mental at his age. This place, as Phil had once told me, was one of the more “higher up” institutions. It was only for adults, from the age of 20 and up. This, of course, was a cover up for the fact that only the crazy of the crazies go here. The most insane people end up at Everton. But that place was for murderers and stuff.

“Tommy, why don’t you sit in a chair?”

Phil invited, gesturing to the chair beside him. Tommy wordlessly moved to the chair, sitting down. He kept his eyes on the floor the whole time. I watched as Tommy moved his left hand to his mouth and began to chew on a fingernail. The poor boy was quivering, not light enough to go unnoticed but light enough so that nobody else noticed. So Tommy probably has anxiety, that’s apparent. But he couldn’t have ended up here because of anxiety, even if it was extreme. And if it were extreme, he’d be on the brink of death right now with everyone staring at him. Tommy must have realized that people’s eyes were still on him, and quickly rested his hand on his lap. There were about ten seconds of very awkward silence until Phil spoke again, “So Tommy, since you’re new here, I’m going to give somebody the task to show you around and explain how things work around here. Is there anyone here you would prefer?”

Oh no. Tommy got to choose? If Phil got to choose, he would definitely choose me, and I could give him the death glare and say absolutely not. But if Tommy chose me, I would have to because I couldn’t say no to a little fifteen-year-old. He’s so young, and he’s scared. I may be a terrible person, but I wouldn’t deny one’s right to the feeling of safety. But I didn’t want anything to do with Tommy. What if he started following me around? Or worse, tried to be friends with me?

So I just had to look as uninviting as possible. I crossed my arms over my chest and leaned back, trying my hardest to seem angry and scary. Tommy barely even looked up to scan each person in the room. His eyes rested on Sapnap for a minute, weighing the pros and cons of his physical appearance because poor Tommy knew nothing about anyone here, and decided to keep looking. He looked from Quackity to Ranboo, and then his eyes met mine. Oh no, I know that look. He looked at me curiously, obviously not realizing that I don’t want him to choose me based on my glare and my folded arms. If you choose me I will end you. I thought, although I knew he couldn’t hear my thoughts. My heart dropped as Tommy’s eyes stayed on mine for longer than socially acceptable. Which means I’m officially stuck with babysitting duty. Tommy slowly lifted his hand, pointing at me.

_“Him.”_

That was the very first word he had spoken here. His voice was more high-pitched than I had initially expected. He had a similar British accent to mine, except mine was, of course, deeper and more annunciated. His was sharp, although he spoke with little conviction. Tommy folded under the eyes of everyone in the group and quickly dropped his arm and cuddled it back to his chest, looking back down at the ground. I looked to Phil with a pleading look, silently asking him to make him choose somebody else. But Phil didn’t catch my eye, instead he kept his gaze on Tommy. “Uh, Tommy, Wilbur doesn’t actually talk. So I don’t think you two would be a good pairing. Would you like to choose somebody else?”

Yes! He finally tries to be on my side for something. Or he knows that I tend to be very mean to the other loonies around here, so he doesn’t want me to do that to Tommy. See, I may be mean, but I at least have a conscience. I wouldn’t kick a puppy, or be mean to a little kid. But Phil didn’t seem to know that.

At least Tommy would now have to choose somebody else. I absolutely did not want a little kid following me around all day. I have things to do. Like stare at the clock, wondering when this torturous session would end. I made a mental note that it was now 3:57, a whole 12 minutes taken off of my free time. I would be sure to hold this fact over Phil the next time he tries to have me go make paper snowflakes with Ranboo and his fake friend or something stupid like that.

“No.”

Wait, no? I looked up at Tommy with my mouth open in shock. Phil seemed to be surprised too. As if I was just too bad of a person to be interacted with. Although, I don’t even want this job in the first place, so I really don’t care. I quickly got out my notepad and my pencil, moving to write down “absolutely not”, but the notepad was taken from my hands. I looked up at whoever had the audacity to do such a thing, and my glaring brown eyes were met with Phil’s. I was this close to slapping the expression off of his stupid face, but I didn’t.

Phil placed the notepad in his back pocket. “Wilbur, Tommy chose you, and so you will show him around today. How will you manage to do so without speaking or writing anything? I have no clue. But you will do it.” His accent was thick as he spoke.

The audacity of this man! How dare he first make me the leader of the babysitter club and then steal my notepad? Perhaps this was him trying to make me talk. Well, two can play at that game. Apparently Phil didn’t understand yet that I was not planning on speaking at all while I was at Northgate. I don’t even have to stay in this session. It was officially 14 minutes into my free time. I stood up abruptly with an angry huff. What did he know? He was just some dude who was told to torture me by putting me in a house full of kids who don’t know left from right. “It can’t be that bad, Wilbur! I’d love to show him around but he chose you.” Sapnap said with a big smile. I glared at him with all the frustration of a million suns. I would tell him to show Tommy around instead if he wanted to so much, but Phil took my notepad.

I shoved my way past Phil, who let out an indignant “Hey!”. He tried to grab my arm, but I pushed it away. I didn’t care. I weaved in between the chairs enclosing the circle of the therapy group and pushed the door open. Finally, I’m free, away from Phil and everyone else. I could hear Phil calling my name as he tried to calm everyone down, who were all surprised at my sudden act of anger. I made my way through the annoyingly familiar white walls of the hospital, my shoes making quiet clicking sounds against the gray and white tile floor. I hated how my shoes sounded while walking. It sounded like I was wearing high heels or something.

The walls of the hospital were really bland, the only things that were hung on the wall being hotel-esque paintings and random stupid words like “love” and “laughter”. How cheerful. It’s as if they expected us to suddenly “get better” if we have irritatingly happy memos coating every wall in their positivity.

I turned into the main room where we would stay during free time. There were couches and chairs, there was a foosball table against the wall in the very front, with a flatscreen mounted on the wall. I personally didn’t like TV, mostly because it sucked the life out of you. The other lunatics around here loved television, though. There was a disgusting brown carpet on the floor, along with a couple of drawings that Ranboo had created. They were mostly of this ‘Tubbo’ person he made up. Apparently Tubbo had short brown hair and bright brown eyes. But here’s the kicker: Tubbo had big bee wings and ram horns. I would think a “Tubbo” would have, I dunno, normal features or something. But I guess, according to Ranboo, I was wrong. I walked straight through the common room and made an abrupt right, heading into the hallway where the doors to the rooms were. I had demanded to get the very back room when I got here, away from everyone else. Although, now that Tommy was here, he would probably move into the room across from mine. At least they didn’t make us share rooms. The only room that was shared was Dream and George’s, and that was because they couldn’t possibly bear to be apart from each other for even two seconds. I swear, it’s like they’re attached from the hip or something.

I made it to my room, swung the door open to be met by the familiarity of the space, and shut the door once I was inside. People say the eyes are the window to the soul. Well for me, that’s not true. My room is. I had made it so it was exactly like me. The walls were covered in posters and photos, mostly from bands like Death Cab for Cutie and Jimmy Eat World. In the corner of my room was a small desk which had papers and notebooks all over it, the papers containing drawings I had done and decided not to finish. I don’t really draw much, but people say I’m good at it. I mostly just do it when I’m bored. To the left stood my acoustic guitar, which I never really played. There was also a keyboard that leaned against the wall. Near the back of my room was a record player and a box full of my vinyls that my mom had brought to me the first day I arrived. She was the person who dumped me in here in the first place, so I don’t know why she even bothered. I ignored her the whole time she visited, and eventually she decided not to visit anymore. I didn’t really care, since she betrayed me anyway.

I took off my yellow jumper and threw it on the floor carelessly before flopping on my bed and staring at the popcorn ceiling. I knew it was childish to just stomp out of group like that, but at this point, I didn’t care. I barely care about anything anymore. I knew I’d be stuck here for the rest of my life, so I may as well make use of my time. I could hear that the whole group had moved into the common room for free time. I swear, if Phil tried to make me go into the common room for my free time…

_Knock, knock, knock!_

I groaned in annoyance. Stupid Phil, always trying to get me to participate in stupid activities with stupid people. At least he was polite enough to knock. But would I be polite enough to open the door? Nope.

I looked around, spotting a stress ball on the floor by my bed. Hey, perfect for taking my stress away. I picked it up and aimed at the door, chucking it at the wooden space. But of course, only to alleviate my stress. The ball made a whack sound against the door before dropping back onto the floor and bouncing away. I could already see Phil drop his mouth open in surprise, shocked that I would act so, as he would put it, “immature”. But instead of hearing Phil’s annoying voice, I watched as the doorknob slowly turned and the door opened, revealing Tommy, standing in the doorframe with his arms close to his chest and his head faced down, his eyes staring straight at me with what seemed to be fear. Dang it, now he’s scared of me. I only threw a ball!

“U-um..” Tommy spoke quietly and shyly, seeming to regret entering my room in the first place. The boy was thin, and his eyes were tired. He didn’t seem to have been able to sleep in weeks. He wore a red and white jumper to cover up his thin frame.

I sat up in my bed, gesturing for him to continue. For some reason, I didn’t like that this little kid was afraid of me. I guess it was that there really is no reason to be scared of me. I may be a little intimidating, but I wouldn’t hurt anyone unless I had a reason to. Tommy took a hesitant step forward, seeming to relax a little as he realized I wouldn’t hurt him.

“P-Phil told me to tell you th-that you’re supposed to show me around..” He stuttered and quickly ducked his head as if he were scared I’d go absolutely bananas because of the fact that I’d be on babysitting duty for the day. I wouldn’t go bananas, but I’m not going to do it with a smile. I considered my options. One, I could tell him to choose somebody else and absolutely break this little kid’s heart, or I could just get it over with. I sighed, deciding I really could only choose the second option. I nodded, deciding to just get on with it. Phil may have taken my small notepad, but I still had a few empty notebooks that I could carry with me. I always had extras. I got out of my bed, grabbing a pencil and a random notebook from my desk before walking over to Tommy. He scurried away from me like a fearful dog, as if he were terrified I’d try and murder him the second I got near him. I sighed and opened my notebook, thank goodness it was empty, and writing in my sloppy handwriting on a blank page, _‘It’s okay, I won’t hurt you.’_

_"Do not speak to him."_

But I have to! He’s just a little kid.

Tommy didn’t seem to be convinced, but he seemed a little less scared as he allowed me to lead down the hallway. I stopped at the end of it, ignoring the fact that Phil’s eyes were burning into the back of my head from the common room. He was leaning against the doorframe that led to a small garden outside, watching my every movement. His staring sometimes got hard to ignore, but I never let her know I was annoyed. Turning to the hallway with the rooms, I took my pencil and wrote, _‘These are the rooms. Yours will probably be the one across from mine. If you want you can go look in it.’_ Tommy squinted his eyes as he read it, before looking up at me and nodding. “Is there a curfew?” He asked. His eyes widened and he looked down. “I’m sorry, I didn’t ask if I could ask questions.” My eyes widened at the fact that he thought he had to ask for permission. I quickly wrote on the paper, _‘No, it’s alright. You don’t have to ask for permission. And yes, lights are supposed to be out by 9. There are hall monitors so if you wanna go cause some trouble after hours, be careful.’_ Sometimes when I couldn’t sleep I snuck out of my room and went outside into the small garden to think and breathe the fresh air. I know people sometimes need that, so I wouldn’t tell Tommy not to do so. I also would sneak out for... other things.

Tommy seemed to be relieved that I didn’t reprimand him for asking the question. I wondered what kind of place he had been in that he had to have permission to ask questions. Certainly not a healthy or loving space. Perhaps he was abused? That might prompt him to come to Northgate. But he’d need to be worse than abused to get here. Well, I guess I’d have time to find out considering I’m tied to this kid all day. I led the way into the common room with a sigh.

This kid certainly is different.

\---------

_Where am I?_

_I looked around, taking in my surroundings. There really wasn't much except grassy plains stretching as far as my eyes could see, with a few yellow flowers sprouting from the ground every now and then. As far as I could tell, I was completely alone. Normally, being alone would make me feel peaceful, calm. But right now, for some odd reason, I felt anxiety crawling up my spine. I looked up at the sky. It was a light blue color, not a cloud anywhere. The sun was shining a blinding light, which I turned my gaze away from so as to not hurt my eyes._

_Looking back up at my surroundings, I began to walk. Where was I walking? I had no clue. But I felt nervous simply standing in place, so I continued forward. I walked and I walked. I must have walked for what seemed like hours, but it could have been minutes at the same time. Time didn't seem to register in this place._

_I came to an abrupt stop as I heard a gentle whistle of a bird, the only noise I heard besides my shoes crunching the grass. At least, I thought it was a bird. The bird's quiet, short tweet somehow sounded distorted. Like it couldn't have been a bird, but it was definitely a bird. I turned around to see what made the whistling noise, but instead of a bird, I was met by Schlatt himself. I jumped, definitely not expecting to see him in such a nice place. His demanding dark green aura surprisingly stood out like night and day against the light green and yellow plains. I backed away slowly, but stopped as I remembered that he wouldn't hurt me. At least, he might not hurt me. He could probably kill me in less than a second if he wanted to. But I didn't want to think of that. Besides, he could read my thoughts._

_"Nice to see you again, Wilbur. Why didn’t you listen to me yesterday? You know I only want to protect you."_

_Schlatt spoke, his voice sounding terrifyingly calm. Why was he so calm? Was he planning something? Maybe I'm just being paranoid. I tend to be a very paranoid person sometimes. I decided instead of overthinking, I'd speak. "I, um-" I paused, trying to think up an excuse for deliberately disobeying him. I've never been good at lying to Schlatt, because whenever I would lie to him, it never ends well. But I would get in trouble regardless of how I respond. “Um, w-well, I was uh, super busy and I didn’t hear you.”_

_"Liar."_

_My breath hitched as I noticed Schlatt walking closer to me. I tried to step back, but he lifted his hand up, and in an instant, I was frozen in place. My eyes widened as fear hit me. He stepped closer, so close that I could see every crack and crevice in his face, his body, his hands. I tried to move, thrash, whatever I could do to get away from him, but was unsuccessful. I tried to open my mouth to speak, but I wasn't able to even get my mouth open. It was as if I was on some sedative that made my whole body numb, so that only my eyes could move. Schlatt was now mere inches from my face, and if I could move, I'd be shaking violently. I watched in fear as his mouth slowly opened, edges tugging up into an evil, seeming grin._

_"Time to wake up."_

I jolted awake with a gasp, sweat running down my neck rapidly. As soon as I realized I was by myself and in the safety of my own room, I calmed down slightly. But I could still feel Schlatt in the back of my head, which sent a shiver down my spine. I looked to the left where my nightstand stood, and the clock read 3:42 a.m. I groaned and flopped back down on my pillow. My bed bounced lightly as the sudden weight that was added. I stayed like that for a few minutes, until I heard a noise. It sounded like heavy breathing. I sat up, curious about this sudden noise. I slowly threw my legs over the bed and stood, putting on my shoes and throwing on a random shirt that lay against my chair near my desk. I slowly approached my door that was slightly propped open, only because it was a rule that you had to have your door open at night. My slim fingers wrapped around the doorknob and slowly pulled the door open. There was little light in the hallway, just a lamp that stayed on during the night so if somebody needed the bathroom, they could use it. I heard a few sniffles from the room ahead of me. Tommy.

I considered just leaving him be, mostly because I suck at talking to people. I don’t even speak, anyway. I wanted to go get my journal so I could write to him, but for some reason I didn’t want to. But I did, however, want to help him. How would I help him without talking? Who knows. But I finally decided I’d help him. I looked down the hallway, making sure the hall monitor wasn’t paying attention. The only one on the job right now was Skeppy, the skinny kid. Normally there were two people on duty, but I heard from Phil that the mother of the other hall monitor, Technoblade, had died, so he was taking a few days to gather himself before returning to work. I was lucky Techno wasn’t on job right now, the man was terrifying. It was a lot harder to sneak out when Techno was on call.

Skeppy was sitting at the end of the hallway, scrolling through something on his phone. Deciding it was safe, I took a couple steps forward, the sound of his soft crying getting louder and more distinguishable. Suddenly, I heard Skeppy call my name.

“Wilbur? You know you’re not supposed to be outside your room after curfew.” He said, quietly so he wouldn’t wake anyone else. I glared at Skeppy threateningly, lifting my head in hopes that I’d intimidate him and he’d leave me be. Skeppy knew of my selective mutism, so I didn’t really know what he was hoping to achieve by speaking to me. He kept his eyes on mine, weighing the pros and cons of forcing me back into my room. After a few moments of silence, he seemed to decide that it wasn’t worth the struggle and sighed, going back to his phone. I smirked in victory and let myself relax, turning back to Tommy’s door.

My hand lay on the cold doorknob, and hesitantly, I opened the door the rest of the way and revealed myself. Tommy's head jerked up from where it had been in his hands, his eyes wide in surprise. He quickly wiped his eyes with his hands and fixed his hair, obviously trying to play off the fact that he had been crying. I couldn’t see since the light was still off, but I knew he was holding back more tears. I slowly approached his bed, Tommy's features becoming more detailed per step. His eyes were red and damp, along with his cheeks. The only noises that could be heard were my quiet footsteps and Tommy's soft sniffles. He seemed nervous as I got closer to him, but he wasn’t afraid. Without speaking or asking if I could, I sat next to him on the bed. Tommy looked like he wanted to say something, but he held it back. I didn’t want him to hold back. 

Uncharacteristically, I wrapped my arm around his shoulders and pulled him closer to me in an attempt to comfort him.

Almost instantly, Tommy began to shake as more tears rolled down his cheeks. “T-they don’t believe me," He sobbed, "They s-say I’m c-crazy but I swear I’m not.”I could feel my shirt begin to dampen but that wasn’t on my mind. Tommy tightly clung onto my shirt as he cried, and I gently moved my hand up and down his back to try and give him comfort. Tommy slowly looked up at me, sniffling and wiping his eyes. “Do you b-believe me? Do you th-think I’m crazy?” He asked, his blue eyes desperately looking for the answer he longed for.

Without even thinking of his question, or of what I truly believe, I shook my head. I knew I was lying. I mean, if he weren’t crazy, how’d he end up here? Nobody ends up here if they don’t have something going on that makes them crazy. That was what initially drew me to Tommy. I wanted to know what he had done or what had happened to him to end up landing him at Northgate.

“No, I’m n-not crazy,” He said, truly believing what he was saying. I tilted my head slightly. How did he know my thoughts betrayed my actions? I had just thought that nobody ends up here without being crazy, and he immediately responded with that. I narrowed my eyes, deep in thought. How could this be possible? Maybe he was a trained psychic. But he was only 15!

“Actually, I’m 16,” He replied with a small sniffle. My eyes widened at his correction. How on Earth could he read my thoughts? Oh, I get it. Phil put him in here to screw with me. Of course! He's always trying to screw with me. He probably hired an actor and put a thought-reading device on him so he could read my thoughts.

“There’s no thought-reading device on me. I-” He paused, considering not even telling me. But I was extremely interested in what this little boy had to say. I leaned forward, wiping my lightly damp hands on my shirt. Brennan took in a deep breath and looked straight into my eyes. “I can hear people’s thoughts.”

If I didn’t know better, I’d laugh and say it was absolute bogus. But he was lying, how would he have been able to know I was thinking about his age? Or the thought-reading device? But then again, there’s no such thing as superpowers. And I knew I wasn’t living in some kind of weird book that made this possible. There’s no way I’m just a stupid book character. So how could he do this? Was he born like this? I internally laughed at the fact that he could now know each and every thought I think. I mean, he could before, but now I know he can. So I guess I’ll have to put a filter on for little kids. That’ll be fun.

“Wilbur,” he paused, “do you believe me?”

This time, I did.

\---------

It's been a week. A whole week, and Tommy still hasn't left my side. It's like he imprinted on me, or something. Like those videos you see of baby ducks following around a person because it lost its mum. He's made friends with Ranboo as well, which I was surprised about since Ranboo is, well, insane. Tommy likes to draw during free time with Ranboo while having short, quiet conversations. From what I can tell, Ranboo doesn't know about Tommy's ability.

We were currently at free time, and Phil has forced me to stay out in the common room once again. I was seated in one of the uncomfortable brown chairs that, no matter what, I could never get in a comfortable position in. It was made of leather, and bolted to the floor so that it couldn't move no matter how hard one tried to move it. Tommy was sitting on the floor on the gross brown carpet that couldn't possibly be comfortable to sit on. It had the consistency of one of those uncomfortable itchy sweaters you were forced to wear during Christmas to be more "festive".

Ranboo was seated beside Tommy, and they were sat with their legs folded beneath them. On top of their laps were large books, the covers of which I couldn't see well enough, and they had blank pieces of paper atop them as they drew with crayons. Ranboo was probably drawing Tubbo again, and Tommy seemed to be drawing a house. I couldn't be sure, though, his art skills were quite substandard. 

The TV mounted to the wall was playing some sort of house renovation show, which Quackity, Sapnap, Karl, and Callahan were fixated on. Dream and George were sitting in the corner by the help desk giggling about something that I didn't care to find out about, acting like young teenagers in love even though both of them were legal adults. Fundy sat on one of the other confining leather chairs, reading some book about foxes. The man has a full-blown obsession with foxes; he knew everything about them. Once Phil made the mistake about asking Fundy about foxes during group, and the rest of group was just him info-dumping about everything about foxes. It was boring, but hey, at least I now know that foxes have whiskers on both their legs and their face to help them navigate. God, I would be doomed if I didn't know that little piece of useless knowledge.

Phil wasn't in the room, instead, it was Skeppy monitoring us. I could so easily leave, and Skeppy wouldn't even notice. He was too busy on his phone to notice anything. The room's air felt suffocating. The sounds of the stupid television show rang in my ears. I could hear the scratching of Ranboo's brown crayon as he coloured Tubbo's hair with way too much pressure. I could hear Dream telling George a quiet joke, to which George laughed at. His sudden loud laugh made me flinch. I could hear the sound of the pages of Fundy's book turning. I could hear the roaring of the cars that occasionally drove by. I could hear the wind making the wind chimes that were placed by the front door to the institution gently hit against each other, a small, quiet bell sound ringing out. I could hear Skeppy mutter something under his breath as he scrolled through some website on his phone.

I felt like I couldn't breathe as all the noises sounded around me. There were so many, and I couldn't seem to filter them out. I gripped the fabric of my pants tightly as my breathing started to pick up. No, absolutely not, I am not about to have a panic attack in the middle of the common room. My reputation would crumble. 

I felt dizzy, and I felt like I couldn't move. Everything sounded so loud but so muffled at the same time. The world was spinning and I couldn't keep up with it as I silently sat in those fucking leather chairs.

I needed to get out.

Get out, get out, get out, get out, get out...

Slowly, as to not make my dizziness worse, I pushed myself out of the chair and stood up. Regardless of my attempt, I was hit with another spell and I squeezed my eyes shut.

"Wil? Are you okay?" I heard Tommy's voice somewhere, but I couldn't pinpoint where. I stumbled straight past Skeppy, who didn't say anything about me leaving, and I made my way down the same hallway that the therapy rooms were and also where group therapy was held. I gasped as I walked haphazardly down the hall, trying to get air into my deflated lungs as anxiety gripped at my chest. The door at the very back of the hall was where freedom was. Not true freedom, but freedom. I felt like I was experiencing tunnel vision; the doors felt never-ending. Sickeningly beige doors lined my vision on each side. Finally, I landed against the back door with a thud. I didn't expect to reach it so soon.

Shutting my eyes, I reached for the doorknob and turned it. The door made a quiet "click" noise, before it blew open and I felt the cold air envelop me from all sides. Relief consumed me as I stepped out into the garden and shut the door behind me. 

The garden was small, and there were tall walls all around it to make sure nobody could get out. Green was everywhere, trees and bushes and flowers dotting my vision. There was an old concrete fountain in the middle of the garden with small lilies floating on top of it and moss growing along the cracks. Water barely flowed out of it anymore, instead, the water was still. There was a rock path leading from the entrance of the garden and looping around the fountain, before breaking off on one side which led to a small wooden bridge that went over a little pond with an assortment of different colours of koi fish. I was surprised they allowed fish in the garden anyway, after "the Connor incident".

Connor used to be a patient at the hospital, around a year or so back. He was only at the institution for a month because he would freak out the other patients by saying stuff like "I'm gonna eat your eyes!!" and creepy stuff like that. One day, during garden time, he somehow managed to sneak away. When it was time to go in, nobody could find him, so Phil started to panic because if anything bad happened to him while Phil was supposed to be watching, he would most likely get fired.

We ended up finding him submerged in the koi pond, holding the decapitated head of one of the poor fish as he tried to eat the body of it. There were the heads of four other fish floating in the water around him, and the blood of the fish coating his arms and soaking into the water. He had ended up throwing up half of the raw fish he had tried to eat into the water and all over himself.

He was transferred to a different hospital the next day.

I felt better almost as soon as I breathed the cold autumn air into my lungs. I squeezed my eyes shut. I could still feel residual anxiety from what could have been a bad anxiety attack, but thank god, I made it outside in time. I walked slowly down the rocky path as I approached the fountain. It had been there ever since Northgate was first built in 1847, it was so old there were cracks in the concrete that bugs sometimes made their homes in. 

I ran my hand across the cold concrete, shivering slightly as a gust of wind blew by.

"Wilbur?" I snapped my head up at the familiar voice of Tommy. When I turned around and stared back down the pathway, the boy stood in the middle with his eyebrows furrowed in a worried look. He hugged his arms to his chest, as he was far too skinny to possibly be comfortable in the cold. I noticed he had shut the door behind him when he went into the garden so that nobody would follow him. At least, it would lessen the chances of us getting caught away from the group.

Tommy took a couple steps toward me, but he stopped. "Wilbur, are you okay?" he asked, "I asked you inside but you didn't seem to hear me."

I tried to think of a good excuse for why I was outside, when I remembered I was an idiot. Tommy could literally hear my thoughts, so trying to come up with a blatant lie was useless. _I needed fresh air._ I replied, which wasn't technically a lie, I just wasn't explaining the full extent of the situation.

"I know you were really anxious so I came out here to make sure you were okay," Tommy admitted, looking down. "I didn't mean to intrude, sorry."

I sat down on top of the fountain, temporarily feeling coldness shoot up my spine. _It's fine,_ I thought, _I'm not upset._ And truly, I wasn't. I wasn't going to open up to Tommy about anything that went on in my mind, but it was nice to have someone in the ward who was sentient enough to tell when someone needed a friend.

Wait... a friend..?

Were we friends? I didn't think so. But by the way Tommy approached me and sat two or so feet away on the concrete of the fountain because he knew I didn't want to be alone right now, he clearly thought otherwise. I didn't make friends, though. I didn't want to make friends. Friends only prevented me from my main goal: getting the hell out of Northgate. And with friends came commitment. The only commitment I needed to be worrying about was my commitment to Schlatt.

Tommy sat quietly, looking around the garden curiously. “I’ve never actually been out here before. It’s nice,” He said, swinging his legs a bit as his eyes fixated on something near the roof. I followed his eyes, and saw, on one of the small beams that connected the roof to the building, a birds nest. There were three eggs in the nest; their mother nowhere to be seen. I was too far away to see what they looked like or what kind of bird they belonged to.

“Those are crow eggs,” Tommy said, reading my mind while his eyes remained on the nest made of an assortment of sticks, leaves, and some plastic. 

_How did you know?_ I asked, glancing to the boy who sat beside me. He smiled.

“I like birds. When I was a kid, I would birdwatch a lot. Took my mind off of everything that was going on back then.” I huffed quietly in amusement at the first statement.

_You still are a kid._ I thought to him. At that, he whipped his head around, and with an annoyed expression, replied, “I’m not a fuckin kid you ass.” His British accent was thick as he swore.

I chuckled and rolled my eyes. _You’re like, 16._

“So? I’m a big man!” Tommy hopped off the fountain, and puffed up his chest, trying to look big and scary but failing terribly. He looked like a cat that was trying to be intimidating to other cats by fluffing up its fur and hissing, but to humans they just looked cute. 

_Sure you are, keep telling yourself that._ I joked. Suddenly, the door to the garden burst open.

“Tommy! Wilbur! We’ve been looking for you everywhere! Jesus, you almost gave me a heart attack,” Phil approached them with a relieved but irritated look on his face. He was followed by Skeppy who looked down sheepishly, and, oh god, Technoblade. Techno stared into my soul in a way which made my heart rate speed up almost immediately. I thought he was supposed to be gone for longer, why was he back? His mother died, for god’s sake, you’d think he would take a little bit of time to mourn. 

Technoblade was a large man, with long dirty pink hair that he usually kept in either a braid or a messy ponytail. Today it was in a braid. His arms were crossed over his chest as he stared at me intimidatingly. Techno knows very well that I’m more a problem creator. I rarely follow rules, which means when he’s on the job, he spends more time focusing on making sure I’m following rules than making sure the rest of the patients are being safe.

This was the first time Techno was meeting Tommy since he was admitted as a patient. Techno’s dark brown eyes shifted from me to the small blonde boy who stood beside me, and the sharp look in his eye almost completely vanished at the sight of the young boy. 

“Come on, Tommy, Wilbur, we all need to go back to the group,” Phil gestured for us to walk in front of him. Tommy quickly did so and I followed, but not without shooting a glare to Phil for ruining my good time. 

My good time with my _friend_.

\---------

Over the span of the next few weeks, to Phil's surprise, Tommy and I got a lot closer. I convinced him that he isn’t crazy like all the adults tell him. Because truly, he’s not. He just has an ability that could be dangerous to some people. I don’t know why they’d admit him into Northgate, though. If they truly wanted to convince him that he was crazy, he’d be admitted into Everton. Perhaps they tried to admit him into Everton, but because he’s not psychopath crazy, and he’s 16, they didn’t allow it. So the next best thing was Northgate. Yeah, that made sense. But what kind of parents would admit their own child, at such a young age, to a mental hospital? He could get hurt in a place like this. The people in here were genuinely insane, and insane people plus sane people never ends well. But I wouldn’t let anybody hurt him. Despite never really liking people, I cared about Tommy and would do anything to protect him.

“Aww, thanks Wil!” Tommy said with a smile as he took a bite of his chicken sandwich. I glared at him in fake annoyance. _Stop reading my thoughts._ I thought, which was ironic because he would have to read my thoughts in order to respond.

“I don’t have a choice! I always hear everybody’s thoughts. But I know how to filter them out so I only hear one person’s thoughts,” He explained, raising up his hands in surrender. I was about to respond when I felt someone breathing on my neck. I narrowed my eyes and whipped around, about to silently chew out whoever was one, listening in on Tommy and my seemingly one-sided conversation and two, daring to even come that close to me. But instead, Schlatt stood in front of me with folded arms, seeming angry. I felt an overwhelming sense of fear fill my body from head to toe. I felt Tommy's hand gently touch my arm and I looked back at him, my eyes meeting his. He looked concerned, seemingly noticing my sudden change in emotion. “Wilbur? Are you okay?” He asked, tilting his head slightly. I looked back at Schlatt, who clearly wanted me to follow him. I then looked back to Tommy.

_I’ll be right back._ I thought, and knowing he’d hear it, I stood up and quickly followed Schlatt with my head drooped and my hands close to my chest. I learned long ago that if I didn’t submit to Schlatt, bad things would happen. I could feel multiple people’s eyes on my back as I left the lunchroom which made me feel highly uncomfortable, but I wouldn’t let anyone know it. It took all of the self control in my body to not lift my chin up and stare at everyone who was looking at me defiantly.

Luckily none of the noon duties or lunch ladies noticed as I followed Schlatt away from the group and into a secluded area. We left the lunchroom and I followed him down the hallway, my stomach churning as I began to feel nauseous. Anxiety normally came with nausea for me, so I prayed to whatever god would listen that my anxiety would calm down so I wouldn’t throw up. Schlatt didn’t look back to see if I was following because he knew without having to look that I’d follow him. I hated the control Schlatt had over me. But I couldn’t do anything about it. He was too powerful. He had the ability to harm me whenever he wanted to, which is what terrified me the most.

But Schlatt is kind. I know he is. He’s been kind before. He’s just doing this to protect me. He always talks about how much I need him, which is true. Without him I wouldn’t have grown into the person I am now. I wouldn’t be selectively mute. My selective mutism is the biggest thing that makes me, me. Without it, I would be like every other person. I’d be boring. I’d be forgotten quickly. Sometimes I wonder where I would be without Schlatt, but those thoughts quickly end because the thought of losing Damian killed me. I needed him to function, to exist. I always-

"Quiet your mind, Wilbur." Schlatt spoke firmly, which ripped me back into reality. I had only then realized that my mind went on another tangent, and I had been mindlessly following him without even realizing where we were going. I also remembered that Schlatt could hear each and every thought I had. Which means he heard me say that I was scared of him. But that didn’t really matter, as fear was what kept our relationship strong. I noticed that Schlatt and I had entered a small room which was located in the very back of the hospital. There was a hospital bed and some medical equipment. I recognized the place where I had stayed when I had gotten a black eye because I got into a fight with a guy who left the institution a while ago. At least I only walked away with a black eye. He got the pleasure of walking away with a broken nose and a bruised ego. He had been picking on me, saying I was a freak for not talking. Everyone knows that it’s better off not to speak to me, much less insult me, so I busted his nose. Fun times.

I knew Schlatt would want me to shut the door, so I did that before he asked me to in order to stay on his good side. But my heart dropped as he turned around to look at me, anger evident in his eyes. What did I do? Oh no, I’m screwed. I backed up so that I was as far away from Schlatt as I could get without seeming like I was trying to get away from him. I kept my head low, staying on the submissive side. “Are you angry with me?” I asked hesitantly, voice sounding smaller than I liked. My voice was hoarse as I tried to get used to using it again. I only spoke with Schlatt, and that was because he allowed me to. He never let me talk to others. If I did, I got in trouble.

Schlatt scoffed and folded his arms against his chest. He looked at me as if that was the dumbest question he had ever heard. "Am I angry with you? Hmm, let me think." He paused, beginning to pace as he pretended to be deep in thought about that question. My eyes trailed his body with each step he took. I knew better than to take my eyes off of him. I had learned my lesson a long time ago. Schlatt paced for a couple more steps before abruptly stopping and turning to face me with such rage I had only seen a few times.

"Yes, I am angry with you!" He shouted, "What were you thinking, speaking to Tommy like that? I've done so much to protect you, and you repay me by going behind my back and doing something so incredibly stupid! You’re risking everything by talking to him!" His eyebrows furrowed as he stared daggers at me. My back was pressed against the door, and I was physically shaking in fear. I knew how Schlatt was when he got like this. Last time he was like this, I almost lost him. The thought of losing Schlatt again terrified me. He was the only person that believed me when I said that I wasn’t crazy. I needed that kind of security. I needed the certainty that he’d always be there. I needed him. I can’t lose him. I need to fix this.

“I-”

I tried to speak, but he cut me off. “No! I don’t wanna hear it. You always beg me to stay with you, and when I finally cave and decide to stay with your pathetic little self, you go and do something stupid again! You’re coming extremely close to the last straw.” I felt a wave of fear crash over me, so violently and suddenly that it made my legs collapse and I fell onto the floor, pressed against the door so roughly that I would surely have a bruise on my back. I felt my eyes begin to water at the sheer terror that I was close to losing Schlatt. “P-please-” I began, tears pricking the corner of my eyes, but he cut me off again.

“I don’t wanna hear you begging for me to stay with you," He growled, "I know you’re so insecure in your own abilities to care for yourself that you need me to come pick you up and get you on your feet, even after I left.” He turned on me, and without giving me time to think, he was right in front of me, his face only inches away from mine. I could feel the warmth of his body radiating onto me, which made me begin to sweat. “You're so immature, so dysfunctional,” He hissed venomously, “A pathetic little child, all alone, because you couldn't possibly live without me. Because nobody would want a deranged, lifeless, _pathetic_ coward like you.”

I choked out a sob, tears rapidly racing down my cheeks. I was shaking violently, my knees pulled to my chest and my arms wrapped around them as I tried to comfort myself by doing even the littlest of things, like curling up into a small ball. At this point I was unable to even look at Schlatt. I was too weak to even lift my head. Sweat was pouring down my neck, dampening my shirt and coating my face in its salty liquid. I felt like I was on fire, or close to it. I broke out into a violent bout of coughing, my muscles spasming uncontrollably. I felt weaker than I had ever been. I knew Schlatt was watching my pitiful self sobbing into my knees, probably enjoying the sight in front of him. I couldn’t live without Schlatt. He was my lifeline. If there was no Schlatt, there was no me. I sobbed violently, shaking so hard that if somebody walked in, they could assume that I was having a seizure. It surely felt like I was.

Suddenly, I felt Schlatt's presence right next to me. I was too weak to look up at him, but I could feel his hot breath tingling my ear. He was smirking, proud of the mess he had thrown me into. Slowly, quietly, he whispered, “You’re going to be alone for the rest of your short, pitiful life.”

Then I felt his presence dissolve. I let out a blood-curdling wail of pure sorrow. I felt like I couldn't breathe. I cried loudly, pain shooting through my body from all edges. I felt like I was dying, and at this point, I wouldn’t mind if I was. My eyes widened as a violent bout of nausea hit me. I lurched forward, onto my hands and knees, and instantly, all my stomach’s contents came up all over the floor. I gasped, struggling to breathe. I was choking on my own saliva. Let me die. Please, god, just let me fucking die.

I felt another wave hit me and I threw up again, gagging at the smell of the putrid liquid. I felt my vomit coating the sides of my hands as it spread out onto the white and gray tile floor beneath me. I tried to sit up, but my hands slipped on the vomit on the floor and I instantly fell over. My head whacked against the floor painfully and I felt an unimaginable pain cloud my head. I just wanted to die already. Why couldn’t I die already?!

Like a maniac, I began to giggle. The giggling morphed into a full on mad scientist laugh. I didn’t know what was so funny, but the fact that I was finally going to die, like Schlatt always said I would, was hilarious. Schlatt left, so I leave. It really was never meant to be.

I clutched my stomach as I struggled to breathe through my bouts of laughter. Vomit was everywhere, on my hands, on my shirt, underneath my head. I was probably lying in vomit, but I wasn’t paying attention to that. I gasped for air through my insane laughing, and that sent another wave of nausea coursing through my stomach. My body heaved, and I quickly rolled to my side to avoid choking on my own puke. My stomach barely had anything left to offer. Only the stinging feeling of stomach acid came up. I was thrown into a violent fit of coughs. I rolled back onto my back while clutching my stomach and struggling to get air into my deflated lungs.

All of the laughter dissolved as anger hit me, and I violently hit my head against the floor. An even worse pain coursed through my head. I already had a headache, but because of me hitting my head on the vomit-soaked ground, I would definitely gain a migraine. My face was hot, as if I were developing a fever, and I continued to bash my head, the pain getting more and more intense by the second. I just wanted it all to be over. But it would be over soon. Just a few more hits. I could finally end it with a few more hits. They’d have to be extra hard in order to kill me, but I’d be able to do it. I will do it. Just a few more...

Tears streaming down my cheeks, my whole body caked in sweat, vomit on my hands and underneath me, around me, I looked like a mess. But hey, at least this awful life would be over soon. I knew this would be the last time I ever took a breath on this terrible Earth, but that was okay. I needed the pain to stop. I couldn’t bear to live on without Schlatt. Without him, I was nothing. A nobody. I let out a scream of anger. With pure determination, I lifted my head up, and with a great force, I slammed my head back down. With a sickening crack, the warmth of my own blood seeped into the tile beneath me.

Everything went black.

\---------

If I was dead, this certainly wasn’t how I pictured the afterlife to be like. I heard a distant beeping noise, which almost reminded me of the heart monitors that they would hook up to you after being injured. But I wasn’t injured. I was dead. Right? I couldn’t be alive after all of that. 

“He’s awake!”

Goddammit.

My head snapped up as I heard a terribly familiar voice. Then pain shot through my skull and ended by my feet. But this pain lingered. I groaned and my eyes slid shut, feeling a wave of dizziness hit me like a midnight train going anywhere. “No, Wilbur, don’t move. Don’t try and get up.” I felt somebody’s hand on my arm, and my eyes whipped open to glare at Phil. I moved my arm away from him, away from his soft hand that I hated oh so much. My arm rested on my chest, away from Phil. Hopefully he'd take the hint and not attempt to touch me again. Phil was sitting in a small swivel chair beside the hospital bed. There was a heart monitor hooked up to me, making a quiet beeping sound. I tried to ignore it, but I hated the sound of it. It kept on beeping. Why did they have to have an audible noise to show I was alive? Oh, right.

I’m alive.

Why am I alive? How am I alive? I watched as Phil sighed and placed his hands against his head, rubbing his temples. He closed his eyes in exhaustion, and for a moment, I felt bad for being mean to him. He must have gotten no sleep last night after what happened. But why couldn’t he sleep? I didn’t die, unfortunately, so he should be fine. Why was he so stressed?

Oh, I know! If a patient died under his care, he could get fired, and then there goes his paycheck. I watched as Phil took in a deep breath before looking back at me. He opened his mouth to speak, but must have decided he shouldn’t so he closed it again. Suddenly, there was a knock on the door. Phil's head shot to the door in relief, as if he was expecting somebody. Who was he expecting? Was it a new therapist? Or worse, a psychiatrist? Would they try and put me on medicine again?

God, I hate medicine. It did absolutely nothing for anybody. It was poison. They once put me on what they called “antipsychotics”. During the time I was on the cursed medication, Schlatt was completely gone. Those days were pure hell. I stopped taking them a long time ago, although Phil doesn’t know that.

I watched as Phil stood up and walked to the door, his hand wrapping around the handle and opening it. My eyes were instantly met with Tommy. Oh god, now I’ll have to explain to him what had happened. I didn’t want to talk to him. If I talked to him again, Schlatt wouldn’t come back. And I needed him to come back. I knew if I didn’t talk to Tommy, Schlatt would come back. He had to come back.

I quickly silenced all my thoughts, knowing Tommy was able to hear them. I wondered what Phil was thinking right now. Tommy would know. I watched silently as Tommy approached the hospital bed, sitting where Phil had been just a few moments ago. He simply stared at me, and I knew he was trying to read my thoughts. But I was completely silent. I could tell he was sad. Why would he be sad? What did Phil tell him?

“I’ll leave you two alone,” Phil said, breaking the silence for a moment before exiting the room and not fully closing the door, but keeping it cracked open. I purposefully thought of the color black, so he couldn’t hear anything. Tommy looked at me, eyebrows raised. “Really, Wilbur?” Tommy moved his hand and pressed it against the hospital bed, but not touching me. I refused to look at him, knowing his face was full of disappointment.

“I’m not disappointed, Wil.”

Damn it! Screw Tommy and his ability to hear things he shouldn’t be able to hear. I looked at Tommy, who had a playful smile. Dang it, he heard that too. I put the image of black back in my mind, trying my hardest to not let him hear me. Tommy looked at me, and I made the mistake of looking back at him. From that simple glance, Tommy already knew something was up. “Wil, what happened when you left the lunchroom?”

I knew that question would surface eventually. I just wish it wouldn’t be now. I refused to tell him what had happened. He would ask about Schlatt and say that he was bad for me, like everyone else said. But Schlatt cared for me. I know he did. He wouldn’t protect me if he didn’t care for me. I folded my arms and looked away from Tommy's dark brown eyes, which were glued to my head.

“Wilbur!” I ripped my head up as Tommy sharply called my name, which made a shot of pain go through my head. I squeezed my eyes shut as an attempt to dull the pain that coursed through my head. Oh yeah, I gotta be careful with that. I looked in Tommy's eyes. He looked desperate, as if he didn’t just want an answer, he needed it. Tommy pulled his hand away from the bed, looking down at his feet which were pulled close to the chair. He looked so small and scared, it made me feel terrible.

“Wilbur, you can’t kill yourself. I need you here," He said with desperation in his voice, "You’re the only person who believed me when I said I can hear thoughts. You comforted me when I needed somebody to. And I don’t care if you’re 24 and I’m 16. And I don’t care if I’ve known you for like, three weeks. You’re my best friend."

"When I heard you had been sent to the emergency room, I didn’t sleep that night. I cried all night because I was certain I had lost my best friend. Skeppy heard me and was about ready to call Dr. Philza down to do something. And you know what? Dr. Philza didn’t sleep either. He cares about you, despite what you may think. That’s why he seemed so tired,” Tommy sat back in his chair and breathed deeply, trying to avoid becoming too emotional. He rubbed his eyes which had been watering slightly to avoid breaking down. Was he really brought to tears by my possible death? I wonder if Phil cried. I don’t know why he would, I’m his most stubborn and frustrating patient. But did he really care about me so much that he would stay up all night to know if I was okay or not? If I were alive?

I looked at Tommy, who returned the stare. I sighed softly. _Okay._ I thought, without really thinking of how I was basically screwing myself over.

_I’ll tell you what happened._

\---------

Tommy sat silently for a couple seconds, and I stared at my lap, refusing to look up at him. I knew he was crying, I could hear his sniffling. I hated the fact that I made Tommy hurt. That I made Tommy cry. This was my fault. I felt my migraine from earlier reside in my head, which caused me to bring my hands up to rub my temples. I sighed in relief as no extra pain came to me from moving my hands. It seemed to only be my head that seemed to be hurting. That made sense, since I had been banging my head on the floor. Now that I noticed, I had a bandage carefully wrapped around my head where my skull had cracked. There probably was a lot of blood. How’d they even get my body here? Was I heavy? The room my body had been in must have looked like a crime scene with all the blood and vomit.

“Wil, can I ask you a question?” Tommy asked, breaking my train of thought. His voice was shaky and quiet since he had been silently crying. I nodded, wincing as that short movement of my head shot pain through my body. I felt nausea begin to brew in the pit of my stomach, but I refused to throw up again. I hesitantly looked up at Tommy, who was staring at the floor and nervously playing with the sleeves of his sweater. His peachy cheeks were lightly damp from the salty tears that he had since stopped shedding. “Um, do you, uh-” Tommy paused.

_You can ask me anything, Toms. I won’t be mad._ I told him. I smiled gently as Tommy looked up at me for reassurance. He seemed to relax a little, his shoulders slowly relieving themselves from the tense position they had been in. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, before speaking. “Wilbur, do you um, do you really believe that Schlatt was good for you?” He looked down as soon as he asked the question, and I could tell he was scared of what my response may be. I was surprised for a second that Tommy maybe thought Schlatt was bad, but forced myself to not let it show. Besides, I promised I wouldn’t be mad. I tried to think up an answer, realizing that this was kind of stupid because he could hear me thinking for an answer as well. But nevertheless, I responded.

_Yes. Schlatt is very good for me. He’s always had my back in every situation._ I said. _He is kind to me most of the time, and he's the only one in this institution who believes anything I say. It's like how I believed you when you told me you can hear my thoughts. He believes me when I say I'm not crazy._

I looked to Tommy, whose eyes were screwed shut as he rubbed his temples. I furrowed my eyebrows in concern.

_Tommy?_ I thought, hesitantly. I tried to sit up to see Tommy's face better but I couldn’t due to my head injury. I winced at the movement in my head and reluctantly lied back down. My eyes stayed on Tommy's head the whole time. He seemed to be quivering lightly, his hands rubbing at his eyes. _Tommy? Are you okay?_

“No, Wilbur! I’m not fuckin' okay!” Tommy snapped, making me flinch back in surprise at his harsh words. He stood up in anger and I winced at the screech of the folding chair that screeched against the tile. Tommy moved away from the hospital bed as he began to pace, running his fingers through his messy blonde curls as he thought. My eyes trailed him as he walked back and forth, hands running through his dark brown messy, unkempt hair.

“Schlatt's not good for you, Wil. He’s manipulative and cruel. Did you even hear what he said? That you’d die alone? That is cruel!” Tommy yelled out in frustration. He didn’t look at me as he was ranting, rather his pacing got more and more vigorous the more worked up he became. Instantly after he said that, I got angry. Who is he to be telling me who I can and can’t befriend? Tommy's never even met Schlatt and yet he suddenly has some sort of fucked up vendetta against him. I tried to sit up defiantly, and I realized that I probably wouldn’t learn my lesson as pain shot through me again. But I ignored it with a wince as I forced myself to sit up. Tommy sighed and turned to look at me. “Lie down,” He said, words more gentle than before.

My eyebrows furrowed as my eyes turned into an angry glare. _How dare you!_ I thought-shouted. _How dare you first come in here and say you care about me, and then the next second insult the person who was there for me when nobody else was! Well, listen here, Tommy. I don’t need you. I don’t need anybody. If you’re not gonna be a caring friend and try and help me, then how about you just leave!_

I was seething with rage, my hands bunched together into fists. I refused to look at Tommy's disgusting face.

Besides, I meant it when I said I didn’t need him. I don’t need friends, I never did. You know, maybe I was right about Phil. He really did just throw Tommy in here in order to get to me. Well, screw you, Phil. Tommy never got to me. I don’t let people get to me. I screwed up with hanging out with Tommy, Schlatt already made that clear. So now, I need Schlatt back.

And I knew how to do it.

_If you won’t be a supportive friend, you need to get the fuck out of my life._ I thought, and by the way Tommy flinched back like somebody had just punched him, he had heard me. I turned my head away, eyes locking to the boringly white walls that stood around me. I didn’t wanna look at Tommy feeling hurt like that.

Not like I care or anything.

Schlatt had warned me about what making friends would do to me, and I was finally learning what he meant.

I kept my eyes on the wall as I heard the door squeak open and shut quietly. Good, finally he’s gone. I can’t believe he had the audacity to tell me off. He’s like, 14! I’m so much older than him, I should be the one bossing him around. He probably was set up by Phil. He just used Tommy to get into my head and kick Schlatt out. But how would he even know about Schlatt? I’ve never told him about Schlatt, so how would he know? Oh, I know. He drugged me and forced me to tell him and I didn’t remember because it was so traumatic. Yeah, that makes sense. That’s definitely what he did.

I wonder how drugs even work. What kind of drug would he have to use in order to force me to speak? Maybe some evil scientist type medicine. I wonder if he used a needle to get it in me. That could have multiplied the trauma, which is why I don’t remember it at all. See, now I’m getting at something! I don’t know how I never managed to notice this until now, but now that I know, I can find a way to maybe trick him into thinking that I’m better so I can finally be let out of this dump of a mental home.

“Wilbur Soot!” I heard Phil's annoying voice shout my name angrily. He shouted my full name, which meant he definitely was very upset. I groaned and rolled my eyes, knowing exactly what was coming next. If I had blankets I would pull them up and over my head so Phil would have to pull them away. At least I could put up a fight.

Phil burst into the room, the door flinging so hard against the force of his hand that it could have made a hole in the wall if it were thrown any harder. I could see a clear dent in the white walls which would have to be fixed later. Phil's angry blue gaze was glaring daggers into my much less cold eyes. His hands were bunched into fists as he stood in the doorway.

“Tell me why Tommy just left this room crying,” Phil demanded, stomping his way over to my hospital bed like a toddler who didn’t get a toy at a store. I had to hold back laughter at imagining that sight. Phil, a 46 year old psychiatrist, throwing a tantrum in Toys R Us because his mother wouldn’t buy him a Lego set. I would kill to see that.

“Wilbur! Get your thoughts out of your self-absorbed head and answer me!” Phil was now right in front of my bed, face more red then a cherry tomato. Now, there were three ways I could answer him. One, completely ignore him, which, by the way, wasn’t a very good idea because he could put me in solitary whenever he wanted. Two, I could just smile at him, with my charismatic smile, which drives him insane (I know this from personal experience). Or, of course, three, I could try and ask him for a notepad which he would not give me because he wouldn’t give up until I spoke. Now, all things considered, I wasn’t feeling like being polite and asking him for a notepad. And I hate solitary more than Phil, which says a lot.

So I decided on choice number two.

I threw on a sweet smile, staring straight into his eyes, and Phil's glare immediately multiplied by ten. He seemed to be trying her hardest to maintain composure, which he was definitely failing at. Phil closed his eyes and breathed in deeply before looking at me again. “I cannot deal with you right now,” He spoke in a calm and quiet tone before turning around and leaving the room, but not forgetting to crack the door.

God, I hate Phil. I wonder what life would be like without him. A lot better, probably. 

I leaned back in my bed as I stared at the popcorn ceiling. They made small patterns against the white. Almost like stars, or constellations. Popcorn ceilings are basically like budget stars for when you’re not allowed to be outside at night. 

_“I’m proud of you.”_

My head shot up and my heart raced as I heard Schlatt’s voice. Pain shot threw me at the sudden movement and I felt nausea make my stomach curl, but that was the least of my worries. I looked, but I couldn’t see Schlatt in the room. “Schlatt? Schlatt, are you there?” I asked desperately but quietly so nobody who walked by the room could hear my voice. 

_“I am here.”_ Schlatt materialized at the foot of my bed, and he wore a small warm smile. I felt intense relief as I recognized his familiar face. The familiar black suit he always wore, the familiar brown hair that he always styled to the left, the familiar mutton chops that he insisted he would never shave off. 

“Oh, thank god,” I breathed, smiling and letting out a sigh, “I was so scared that I lost you.” 

_“I could never truly leave you, Wilbur. I care about you too much,”_ He said, sitting on the same foldable chair Tommy and Phil had sat in beside my bed. His eyes had no trace of anger, or disgust, or venom that they had had earlier. I smiled and leaned my head back on the uncomfortably thick white pillow of the hospital bed. I knew Schlatt cared about me, I knew it! Tommy was an idiot, he didn’t know what was good for me. He was just a dumb kid. 

_“I’m glad you finally decided to leave Tommy,”_ Schlatt said warmly, _“He wasn’t good for you. He thinks you're insane, you know that? That’s why he followed you to the garden. He thought you would do something insane.”_

Now that Schlatt mentioned it, it all made sense. Tommy thought I was insane. I bet he told Phil about me going out to the garden so he would follow behind and catch me! And I bet he even told Technoblade too. There was a reason I never made friends, and that is because nobody was trustworthy. In this world it’s kill or be killed, betray or be betrayed. In this world, making friends never ended in anything good. Schlatt has told me this, and he’s been proven right every time. But I wouldn’t doubt him anymore. This was the last straw. I felt anger fester in my chest, like a plague slowly taking over my body. It began in the chest, and spread to my stomach, and then my legs, and my feet. And it finally spread to my neck, then my eyes, and finally, the last place. My head; my brain.

“I’m gonna make him pay for this,” I said darkly. Time seemed to slow down as I looked at Schlatt. "He's going to pay for what he's done." Schlatt nodded in approval with a proud smile as he looked upon the wreck that he created, the wreck he had shaped into utter insanity, the wreck that he had free reign to abuse and hurt as much as he pleased. He leaned forward in the shitty gray hospital chair, and he _smiled._

_“I’m so glad you’re finally on my side, my son."_

_\---------_

To be continued.

**Author's Note:**

> guess what chekhov's gun is in this story (hint: it's in the garden)


End file.
